Giving the Devil His Due
by Drauchenfyre
Summary: With his brother as a beloved king, Logan takes it upon himself to clean up a mess of his own making... WARNING: DARK!


**Giving the Devil His Due**

A Fable III Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Characters: Logan, Reaver

_Wraithmarsh_

_6 Months After the Fall of the Crawler_

Logan, former king of Albion, dragged his bound captive through the ancient doors in the cliff face deep in the Wraithmarsh, what was, long ago, a quiet village called Oakvale.

Before He came.

He had made a pact with the Shadow Court, a pact that granted him eternal life and youth, in exchange for the lives of every other citizen of Oakvale.

Now, Logan had business with the Shadow Court. He had left his soldiers- men unknown to his brother the King- outside, guarding the entrance.

Nobody was to enter. Only Logan was to exit.

Shackled and with a burlap sack over his head, his prisoner staggered along, barely keeping up with Logan's brisk military stride. Not that Logan would have slowed, even if he'd needed to drag the man.

Reaching his destination, Logan reached up and yanked the sack off his captive's head, forcing the dazed man to look him in the eye.

Reaver.

A cold, callous bastard of a hedonist.

A deadly marksman.

A man Logan, foolishly, had placed his faith in to build the army and weapons necessary for the defeat of the Crawler.

Logan's brother, with the will of the people behind him, had overthrown Logan's tyranny, and in a single year, completed the work that Logan and Reaver had failed to in five years of despotry.

All while building schools, hospitals, and otherwise enriching the kingdom they had torn apart since the death of Logan's father, the old king.

Logan was now a humble enough man to acknowledge his younger brother was the born leader he could only dream of being. Albion was far better under his brother's rule than Logan's.

He was even seeing to the continuation of the benevolent monarchy. One of the last bits of news to reach Logan before he departed from Brightwall was that Queen Elise, his brother's wife, was pregnant with the Heir.

Yes, Albion would prosper under his brother's reign.

If certain problems were dealt with before they could become bigger problems.

Logan sneered into Reaver's battered, bloodied face. The man was still woozy from the beating Logan's men had applied during his kidnapping from his bed in his Bower Lake manor. They hadn't had to kill his bedmate.

Reaver, the sick bastard, had done that himself. And was sleeping peacefully next to her cooling, bloody corpse.

"Reaver."

Reaver tried to focus. He _knew _that voice, didn't he? "L-logan?"

"it seems that it falls to me to clean up my mess, Reaver. My brother never had the stomach to be truly ruthless- just as well, it turns out, as he saved and enriched the kingdom without crossing that line. However, you are a millstone around his neck. Every day you breathe, it is an offense to so many. It is an offense to the memory of my father. And the memory of Garth."

Garth, an old advisor and brother-in-arms of Logan's father, had been murdered by Reaver not long after Father's death. Only recently, going through Reaver's private journals had Logan learned this, and learned that Reaver had murdered him, not for money, not for power...

...but because Garth _bored _him.

"I know from your journals that you are nearly immortal. But even those with nigh-immortality can be killed. You just need to know how."

Yanking Reaver around, Logan kicked the back of his knees, forcing him into a kneeling position. Reaver's vision cleared, allowing him to look upon three figures he'd hoped never to see in person again-

The Shadow Court.

Feeling a weight on his chest, Reaver looked down in horror, praying it wasn't-

The Seal of Shadows. _Damn!_

Reaver could feel the draining sensation beginning. His age increasing. He looked up at Logan, horrified.

"You had to know they would collect your soul someday, Reaver. I simply am stepping up the timetable. I hope the torment awaiting you exceeds even my wildest nightmares. You have much to answer for, _Evan Marbury._"

Reaver began to shriek in agony as his now-withered form began to crumble into dust. Seeing the dead man was gone beyond even the ability to reanimate as a hollow man, Logan turned to depart.

_**Wait, Logan, Prince of Albion.**_

Logan turned to the shadowy figure that had addressed him.

_**You have made a sacrifice to the Shadows. What is the boon you request of us?**_

"I seek no boon, Shadows. I sought only the end of a vile monster of a man who had already lived far too long. If Reaver has gone on to the punishment he so richly deserves, then I am content."

_**The Pact requires we give you a boon. We shall grant you what you secretly desire most- information on the greatest threat to your brother's rule. The commandant you appointed at Ravenscar Keep during your time on the throne plots, not against your brother, but the throne itself, and all who sit on it. Do with this information what you will.**_

Grimly, Logan nodded acknowledgement, then turned and headed back to his men at the entrance.

It would seem that Logan had more work to do, to keep his failings from becoming his brother's problems.

END


End file.
